It turns out figuring out what to do with your fake fiancé on Valentine's Day is not as easy as you'd think. Shane had poured over the options —movies, dinner, bowling?—and came up blank every time. It felt like an important public milestone, but he had no clue what to do about the Hallmark Holiday.
"Should we do something for Valentine's Day?" he forced himself to ask Ilya the week before the 14th. The question felt silly and ridiculously juvenile on his lips.
"We can have a dinner party here," Ilya said simply from the couch.
"A dinner party?"
"Yes, it is when you have friends over for dinner, keep up, Shane," Ilya said, his eyes still on his phone, as if this conversation were pointless.
"Who is going to be free for that?"
"Our single friends, obviously. Svetla will come. I can invite Wyatt and Troy as well."
Shane felt his jaw tense at Troy's name. He still remembered Troy's wandering hands at Halloween and New Year's.
"I'll ask Rose, and maybe she can bring a friend of hers too," he added, embarrassed that he had only one single friend.
"Okay," Ilya answered, and that was that. Their Valentine's Day plans were decided easily.
February 8th— 6:28 AM
Shane Hollander:
Ilya and I are having a dinner party on Valentine's Day with some of our single friends. Can you come?
Please
Rose Landry:
A front row seat to watch you and Ilya interact all night, yes please.
Who else did you invite? Anyone cute?
Shane Hollander:
He's inviting his friends Svetlana, Troy, and Wyatt
Rose Landry:
And you're only inviting me? A little uneven
Shane Hollander:
Do you know anyone single people that you can bring? I could use some more troops.
Rose Landry:
My TA for this semester is really nice (and gay 👀), I could bring him. He's a social butterfly, I'm sure he'd say yes.
Shane Hollander:
Sure, that would be great. Don't try to set me up with him, though. I'm supposed to be "engaged."
Rose Landry:
I won't… but maybe you could flirt with him a little to make Ilya jealous
Shane Hollander:
Rose…
Rose Landry:
Just a suggestion!
In truth, Shane had never celebrated Valentine's Day before, at least not with a partner. Sure, he'd exchanged cards and candy with classmates growing up, but he'd never had a "valentine" before. Technically, he didn't tonight either. Ilya wasn't really his to keep, but he'd at least play along for tonight.
Svetlana arrived first at their party, sweeping into the apartment as if she owned it with a bottle of wine in each hand. She didn't even put them down before stealing a kiss on his cheek and smiling, "Happy Valentine's Day, Shane."
"Thanks, you too," He murmured back, his cheeks flushed.
"No kissing my fiancé," Ilya said from the kitchen. The exchange between him and Svetlana was scrutinized from across the room.
"Well, someone should kiss him," Svetlana quipped back.
Ilya's eyes hardened for a second, staring daggers at Svetlana with his mouth pressed into a hard line. "Перестань вмешиваться." he said to her icily, and Shane didn't need the translation to know it was him drawing a line.
He wondered how much Ilya had told her about Shane's most recent kisses.
She simply stuck out her tongue in response, like a little girl on the playground, at a loss for words in the face of an insult.
Wyatt and Troy arrived next, giving both Ilya and Shane warm hugs and big smiles. The intermingled easily with Svetlana in the living room as Shane and Ilya milled about the kitchen, putting on finishing touches to their dinner.
They'd prepared a simple pasta dish, a salad, and tiramisù for dessert. Shane had consulted Jackie only three times during preparation. Everything was dished out into their newly purchased serving dishes and ready to be moved to their newly purchased dinner table. It was a little tight with the table fully extended and seating 7, but they'd remove the center leaf after and bring it back down to a smaller size. That was the feature that Ilya had used to convince Shane to buy the table. After all, Shane couldn't stand cluttered spaces.
Nine minutes after they'd told everyone to arrive, Rose finally walked in with a familiar face in tow. He was smiling and carrying an apple pie that looked homemade. It took Shane a moment to place the shorter, bearded man, but when the man lit up with a smile, he remembered.
"Harris, right?" he asked the man, "I think I looked at your apartment in my roommate's search."
"Yeah, Shane. Good to see you again." Harris said with a bright smile, then glanced around, taking in the apartment. "I can't blame you for choosing this place, it's great."
"Oh, thank you, you," Shane said, rubbing the back of his neck as he prepared the lie. He gestured to the kitchen, where Ilya was still milling about, opening one of the bottles of wine Svetlana had brought. "My fiance and I decided to move in together."
"Wow, congratulations," Harris said with such sincerity that Shane's stomach felt uneasy. "Here, I made a pie for tonight."
"Thank you," he said, and then ushered them in. "Let me put this in the kitchen," he excused himself and found his way back to Ilya.
"I know him, Harris; he was one of my potential roommates," Shane told Ilya in the kitchen as he poured the crimson wine into two glasses for Rose and Harris.
"Harris?" Ilya clarified
Shane picked up both glasses, ready to deliver them, and his eyes cast away from Ilya's. "Yeah, I met up with him and toured his place."
Ilya paused, his hand stilling on the wine bottle. "You said you weren't 'compatible' with any of the roommates you talked with."
"I wasn't," Shane answered.
"What could have been bad about Harris. He seems sweet."
"His place was cluttered."
"Wow, you are a snob," Ilya said, as if it delighted him.
"I'm not a snob."
"You are, you made it seem like you were going to be living on the street, all because you didn't want to deal with clutter." He said, his voice light and teasing.
"Yeah, and…" Shane started, then second-guessed.
"And what?"
"It doesn't matter."
"And, what? Shane," Ilya said curiously, stepping closer to Shane and lowering his voice, like they had a dirty secret to discuss.
Shane lowered his voice as well, eyes meeting with Ilya's as he pressed his lips in a hard line. "And he was gay."
Ilya's face morphed easily from confusion to amusement. "Wow, a snob and homophobic too. I hate to tell you this, Shane, but you're gay too."
"Yes, exactly. I'm gay too, and I was worried there might be some…tension there. I didn't want to fuck up my living situation by getting involved." Shane said, gazing down at the two wine glasses in his hand, he had yet to deliver to his guests.
"Oh, that went really well, didn't it?" Ilya mocked back.
"Shut up, it's different."
"Yeah, instead of just hooking up with your roommate, you got publicly engaged to him, much better." Ilya drawled sarcastically.
"It's just different, drop it, Ilya."
"Okay, okay, don't get so worked up, Shane, it's a party," Ilya said, picking up the plated pasta and walking over to the table.
When Shane walked to the table, his arms laden with their—again, freshly purchased—salad bowl, he saw that all the guests were seated, with only the head of the table left standing. The good news was that Rose and Harris were seated on either side of his seat. That made it easy. Rose was easy to talk to, and Harris was incredibly kind. Maybe he could make it through the night without any awkward encounters with his " fiancé".
The other positive news was that Troy was next to Rose, and Ilya was next to Harris. It shouldn't matter, but Shane wasn't a huge fan of how affectionate Troy was with Ilya, and he was grateful for the four feet of wooden table separating them. He didn't want or need to see Troy's casual touches tonight. He could use them on Rose or Wyatt instead.
Svetlana was strangely quiet as the night began, just letting her eyes move around the table with a small knowing smile that unnerved him slightly.
The pasta was passed around and received rave reviews that Shane was excited to convey to Jackie as soon as possible. Conversation flowed around the table surprisingly easily for a group that didn't know each other well. It started lightly, the different professors chatting about their classes, students, and general Ashwood gossip.
Troy turned his gaze on Harris. "Harris, how did you say you knew Shane?"
"He toured my apartment when I saw him looking for a roommate," Harris said with a smile.
"Shane, you picked Ilya over Harris?" Troy said with a mock gasp.
Shane stiffened a little, but didn't have a chance to respond before Ilya cut in, "Hey Barrett, I'll have you know I'm a great roommate. Shane has it very well here."
Troy rolled his eyes at Ilya, "Sure you are, buddy," he said in a sarcastic drawl.
Shane cut in, having finished watching the exchange between Troy and Ilya: "Harris was great, but on-campus housing with my fiancé is hard to beat." He hoped this would quell any offense to Harris, Troy, and Ilya's back-and-forth.
The table moved on to different topics, guests chatting with the people beside or across from them until three separate conversations were underway.
Shane was happy for the change and asked Harris more about himself, learning about his family's apple orchard and his two older sisters. He was easy to talk to, like Rose, and he could imagine how much her students must enjoy classes with the two of them. He was doing well at ignoring Ilya until his "fiance" gave a booming laugh at something Troy had said. Shane gritted his teeth together, annoyed at Troy for making Ilya laugh, and then annoyed at himself for caring.
Rose gave him a curious look across the table that he did his best to ignore.
Once everyone's plates were empty, Shane and Ilya did their host duties and collected them, promising to return with dessert. The two of them worked together easily in the kitchen, rinsing off plates and loading them into the dishwasher without much discussion.
"Everyone liked the food," Ilya said blandly
"Yeah, I'll have to let Jackie know her mentorship went well."
"Hey, I made the salad without any instructions from her," Ilya defended
"I know, it was very impressive. Perfectly sized carrots," Shane said with a sheepish smile.
They cleaned up the rest of the table and returned with the tiramisu and Harris' apple pie. Shane was rather displeased to see that Troy had switched seats with Svetlana and was now wedged between Harris and Ilya. He fought to keep his smile plastered on, turning to Harris with the pie.
"Harris, I realized we don't have a pie server," he said with a grimace. He held up a spatula and a large, sterling silver spoon. "What would work better?"
Harris seemed undeterred, reaching for the spatula, "Don't worry, Shane, I've served apple pie with pretty much every implement under the sun. This will work perfectly."
Shane had to admit that Harris had an impressive skill in dishing out apple pie with the spatula. He did so quickly and somehow neatly, without breaking the bottom crust into pieces, as Shane was positive he would have.
Shane elected not to serve the tiramisu, instead putting it on the table and allowing everyone to serve themself. He didn't want to push his own dessert when a guest had brought something.
Troy wasted no time in eating bites of both desserts with a big smile, undeterred by the odd combination of tiramisu and apple pie. "Harris, this is the best apple pie I've ever had," he said around another forkful.
"Thanks, old family recipe," Harris said with a bashful smile.
"Wow, no compliments on my dessert?" Ilya said, turning his whole body towards Troy.
"It's okay, the apple pie is just better," Troy said with a gleam in his eyes.
"I think they are both fantastic," Wyatt said, eagerly serving himself another helping of the tiramisu.
Ilya smiled, "Thank you wyatt, see Troy—that's called manners."
Troy rolled his eyes again, "Oh, are you going to teach me about manners, Rozanov? Have I ever heard you say please or thank you?"
"I am very nice," Ilya defended, "Shane, tell him how nice I am," Ilya said across the table.
Shane had no desire to get involved in whatever was brewing between Troy and Ilya. "No, I think I'll stay out of this one," he said, crinkling his nose.
They continued talking at the table long after the desserts were finished, only crumbs lingering on their plates. Shane fell into a more comfortable conversation with Svetlana and Rose, who seemed to have become fast friends in the past few months. He was unsurprised. Rose was incredibly easy to be friends with.
He diligently ignored the rest of the men at the table, even Wyatt, who hadn't done anything wrong.
In fact, Wyatt turned out to be Shane's saving grace. He glanced at his phone nearly an hour after they finished dinner. "Shit, I've got to head out—I signed up for a volunteer shift at the hospital tomorrow, and it's early."
Troy looked disappointed. "Oh, okay, I rode with Wyatt, so I guess that's my cue as well."
"Where do you live?" Harris asked as Troy rose from the table.
"Pretty close to campus, the Sycamore Park area," Troy said.
"I'm super close to there. I could drop you off if you wanted to stay a little longer," he offered.
"Sure, that would be great," Troy said with a bright smile.
Awesome, Troy could stay longer. Just fantastic.
"The night is still young, stay as long as you'd like," Ilya said.
"Actually, Ilya, I've got a sunrise Yoga class tomorrow, so I need to get going as well," Rose said, brushing off her pants and walking to the door with Svetlana close behind her. "But Svetlana is going to drive me home so you can hang out for a bit, Harris."
"Sounds good, Rose. I'll see you on Monday," he said, giving her a small wave as both women disappeared out of the apartment before Shane could beg Rose to stay.
This left him and Ilya alone with Harris and Troy. Great.
Shane was considering faking a migraine and disappearing into his room for the rest of the night when Ilya pulled his chair out and moved to sit in Rose's abandoned spot. "I can barely hear Shane from over there," he said by way of explanation, and the renewed distance between him and Troy made Shane abandon his make-believe migraine.
"Troy, is it your first year at Ashford?" Harris said.
"Yeah, I was teaching at Hillsboro College before, but I decided to move here. It just seemed like a better fit," Troy said quietly, the most timid Shane had seen him all night.
"He's a great fit," Ilya boasted, and if looks could kill, then Ilya would have been decimated by Shane's look.
"I'm glad you're here," Harris said with a smile. He was such a genuinely nice person; maybe Shane should have moved in with him. He could have saved himself a lot of trouble and his current unexplainable jealousy.
For all their excitement at staying later than the rest of their guests, Troy and Harris only lingered an additional fifteen minutes at most. Harris turned to Troy at a lull in conversation, "Should we head out?" he asked sweetly.
"Sure," Troy acquiesced with a nod, and a few minutes later, Shane could breathe again, the apartment gloriously free of flirtatious guests.
There weren't too many additional dishes to clean up, just the tiramisu dish and dessert plates. Shane gathered the plates as Ilya grabbed the dish, heading back to the kitchen in silence. Shane refused to break the silence, his body still packed with emotions he couldn't reconcile.
"I think that went really well, everyone seemed to have a good time," Ilya said as he scrubbed down the tiramisu dish, Shane loading the dishwasher.
"Yeah," Shane agreed monosyllabically, closing the dishwasher a little harder than necessary and starting the cycle.
"A very flirty night. I guess we shouldn't be surprised, inviting a room of single people over for Valentine's Day," Ilya said, still washing the dish, oblivious to the change in Shane's sentence that his sentence caused.
"Yeah, I'd say overly so," Shane said, his fist clenching.
Ilya turned off the sink, placing the dish on their drying rack. "Overly so? Why do you say that?"
"I just think you could be a little more subtle about it," Shane huffed.
"Subtle about what?" Ilya asked in complete confusion, "What are we talking about?"
"The very obvious flirting between you and Troy Ilya. Look, I don't care, Ilya. Fuck whoever you want. It would just be a lot better if it weren't someone in your department."
Ilya stared at him. "You're joking."
"No."
"Shane, I'm not fucking Troy. I'm not fucking anyone. What are you even talking about?"
Shane crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "We never set rules about that stuff, okay? You can sleep with whoever you want. Just be smarter about it. I don't need Roger Crowell thinking you're cheating on me."
"Fuck whoever I want," Ilya repeated slowly, like the words tasted bad in his mouth. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"
"Yes," Shane snapped. "Fuck whoever you want."
Ilya laughed once, sharp and humorless. "What if the person I want keeps pretending he doesn't?"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure Troy wants you," Shane shot back immediately.
"I don't want Troy, Shane."
"Okay," Shane said carefully. "Then who do you want?"
"Someone I shouldn't."
Ilya stepped closer.
"Someone who keeps telling me he wants to forget this ever happened."
Closer still.
"Someone who is acting like a fucking idiot despite supposedly being very smart."
Shane's breath caught. "Oh."
"Yeah," Ilya said, eyes burning into his. "Oh. So you can stop imagining things that aren't there. I don't want to fuck Troy Shane, I never did, and I think deep down—you know that."
He was too close now, his eyes searching Shane's like he was asking a question he wouldn't voice.
Shane's skin felt hot, awareness spreading over him just as fast as arousal did. "Ilya," he said, like it was a full sentence, but Ilya didn't wait for him to gather his words.
Ilya took another step forward, pressing Shane into the cabinet, his words low and quiet, "So maybe I should fuck the person I want, what do you think, Shane. Is that what you want?"
The room suddenly felt too small, his skin too hot. There wasn't enough air in this universe to fill his lungs properly. "We shouldn't," he said in a quiet breath.
"Oh, I know, you love to remind me of that," Ilya moved a hand up to cup the back of Shane's head "but that's not what I asked, I asked if that is what you want."
"Yes" slipped from his lips before he could second guess it, "but it has to be—"
"Stop, Ilya said, placing two fingers over Shane's lips. "You don't have to tell me it's a one time thing and we'll forget about it in the morning. At least give me the chance to change your mind" Ilya said, bringing his lips closer.
"Okay" Shane agreed, almost dizzy with the lust coursing through him.
"Good," Ilya smiled as he removed his fingers from Shane's lips and paused for a moment, the air between them electric. "This is the part where you kiss me, Shane," Ilya said quietly, and Shane didn't need to be told twice.
Shane pressed his lips into Ilya's with a desperation he hadn't even realized he'd been harboring. How long had he been waiting to kiss Ilya again, since New Year's? Since Halloween, or since that first night on the couch when he wanted to practice. Or maybe he always wanted to kiss Ilya, and he was just constantly holding himself at bay.
Ilya kissed him back with equal fervor, pressing his harder against the cabinet and sweeping their tongues together. Shane couldn't keep track of Ilya's hands. It felt like Ilya was trying to touch him everywhere, like he couldn't make up his mind on the best places to touch Shane.
Shane didn't have the same indecision; he wrenched one hand into Ilya's hair and ran the other over the waistband of Ilya's pants, his desires clear. He had done telling himself that he didn't want this.
"On your knees," Ilya said simply to Shane, his eyes dark with desire.
Shane dropped to his knees quickly and without argument, desperate to follow Ilya's instructions. He was so tired of overthinking this all. He quickly undid Ilya's belt and then popped the button on his jeans. He didn't hesitate to pull down Ilya's zipper and shuffle the pants down Ilya's legs. Ilya pulled his shirt off as Shane did, exposing the broad planes of his chest.
Shane stopped for a moment to appreciate the sight of Ilya's cock straining against his briefs. He brought his mouth over the fabric and placed a kiss on it, causing Ilya to swear loudly. He liked that. He did it again.
Ilya was shaking slightly, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he were desperately trying not to twirl them into Shane's hair as Shane teased him. He was far more patient than Shane had been expecting. Shane slipped his fingers into the waistband of Ilya's briefs, peeling them down his thighs so they feel in a heap atop Ilya's jeans. Finally, Ilya's cock was bobbing in front of him, and it felt like he'd been waiting far too long for this. Like they both had been waiting too long for this.
Shane wrapped a firm hand around Ilya and brought his mouth to his head, letting his tongue slip over it to collect the salty drop of precome that had collected there. Ilya let out a gasp above him as Shane slipped his mouth over Ilya's cock until his lips met where his fist was still wrapped around him. He gave an exploratory bob of his head and watched as Ilya's fingers twitched by his side.
Shane pulled his head back and stared up at him, "Ilya."
Ilya looked down, his mouth open and face flushed. "Yeah," he gasped out as Shane used his hand to move over Ilya's cock.
"You don't have to hold back, I'm not going to run away."
Ilya let out a huff at that, and Shane couldn't place whether it was a laugh or an agreement. He had his answer a second later as Ilya slid both hands into Shane's hair. "Fuck, Shane. You don't know how many times I've imagined this," he cursed.
Shane could only moan in agreement as Ilya's cock was moved over his head. Ilya, setting a brutal pace, spit already leaking down Shane's chin and landing on the kitchen floor. He swallowed around the tip of Ilya's dick, and it earned him a garbled curse, so he did it again. He liked unraveling Ilya.
Ilya seemed to let his tongue run wild the more he fell apart under Shane's touch. "I knew you'd be so good, knew your mouth would be perfect".
Shane felt his own cock leaking into his briefs as Ilya directed and praised him. He pressed his thighs together, hoping for any kind of relief, but found none. He could only let himself writhe on his knees while Ilya used his mouth as he wished. Shane only hoped he wouldn't come in his pants like a fucking teenager. Again.
Shane brought his hand up to Ilya's balls, fondling them in his hand as his mouth continued to work. Ilya's grip in his hair tightened almost to the point of pain, and Shane could tell he was close, his pace increasing and his words becoming more slurred.
"Fuck Shane. Just like that. So Good. Wanted this. Needed this"
Shane beamed under the praise, like a plant that hadn't had sun in too long, arching for it. "Fuck, Shane. I'm going to come," Ilya said in warning, his eyes catching Shane's.
Shane pulled back slightly, not fully removing his mouth, but pulling back enough to press his tongue flat over the tip of Ilya's cock and let his eyes meet Ilya's, urging him on.
"Fuck" Ilya groaned as he came, Shane eagerly swallowing all he had to give.
A few moments passed as Ilya caught his breath, staring down at Shane with wide eyes and heaving breath. Shane still knelt, waiting for direction. Ilya gave it by twining his fingers into Shane's shirt collar and wrenching him to his feet. Shane barely had a moment to right himself before Ilya was bringing their mouths together in a kiss.
It was different than their kiss before, less frantic and more tender, like Ilya was memorizing his mouth. "So good," Ilya hummed against his lips, and Shane couldn't figure out if he meant the blowjob or something else entirely. Ilya leaned his head against Shane's shoulder and murmured, "the fucking kitchen".
"What?" Shane said with a laugh.
"I can't believe this happened in the kitchen. I thought about it in a lot of different places, and this was not one of them," Ilya said, and Shane couldn't see his face, but he could tell he was smiling.
"Oh, did you prefer the party bathroom?" Shane joked back, thinking about the need he'd felt on Halloween and how much further they may have gone had Rose not interrupted.
Ilya pulled his head back with a smirk. "Well, I did think about our bathroom, and our living room, and my car, but most of all—" He moved faster than Shane could possibly have expected, squatting down, gripping the backs of Shane's thighs, and effectively throwing Shane's body over his shoulder. Like a caveman.
"Ilya, what are you doing?" Shane shouted at his back.
"I am taking you back to my room so I can spread you out on my bed the way I want," Ilya said, walking easily to his bedroom and using a single hand to open the door, the other still gripped around Shane's thighs. He flopped Shane down on the bed once they were inside, and Ilya had the most smug face Shane had ever seen.
"Take off your clothes, Shane," Ilya told him, his face still smug as he leaned against his door.
Shane tried his very best to look insulted, but he knew he wasn't pulling it off. Ilya throwing him around was hot, and he couldn't deny that. He was positive his face wasn't doing a very good job at pretending otherwise.
He quickly removed his shirt, fighting the urge to fold it, and then unbuckled his pants, sliding them down his thighs and dropping them on the floor. Ilya's gaze swept over him appreciatively as he toyed with his briefs. He peeled them down his legs and then, in a moment of sheer boldness, tossed them at Ilya by the door. Ilya caught them with a grin, stepping forward, their fingers dangling from his.
He dropped them on the floor with the rest of Shane's clothes, then climbed onto the bed and crawled over Shane until he was hovering above him.
"What do you want, Shane?" he asked, gaze dark and mouth red.
"You," Shane answered, his mind blank beyond that. He wanted this; he wanted Ilya.
His answer seemed to please him, and Ilya was swiftly rewarded with a deep kiss, Ilya rubbing their bodies together. Too soon, Ilya's mouth was gone from his, but Shane quickly lost his annoyance over that as Ilya placed hot kisses over his chest. Then he began working his way down.
Shane had called Ilya an asshole many times, but he had never thought him cruel. But Ilya was certainly being cruel now as he placed his mouth everywhere except where Shane wanted it most. Ilya kissed Shane's hipbones, his thighs, beneath his belly button. He licked a strip of skin directly parallel with Shane's cock, and Shane found himself begging," Please.
"Please, what, Shane?" Ilya said, his mouth still hot on Shane's skin.
"Please, Ilya," Shane moaned again
"What is it you want?" Ilya asked again, his hand running lightly over Shane's thigh.
Shane lost his patience, "Please suck my cock, Ilya," he said, twirling his fingers into Ilya's hair and guiding his mouth to Shane's length.
Ilya didn't make him wait anymore, swallowing Shane's cock in the wet heat of his mouth. It felt so good that Shane's vision went black at the edges. He didn't need to direct Ilya to do what he wanted because Ilya anticipated it. His mouth worked expertly over Shane, his hands exactly where Shane wanted them before he even knew what he was craving.
Shane was positive he'd wake up with bruises all over his chest and thighs from how hard Ilya was gripping him as he sucked on him, but Shane couldn't seem to mind. In fact, he was looking forward to seeing the evidence against him.
He was on the edge of his orgasm before he had a chance to fully enjoy everything Ilya was giving him; his lip was pressed between his teeth, and his eyes closed. "Ilya, I'm so close," Shane admitted, his voice higher and breathier than he'd anticipated.
Ilya only upped his rhythm, and with one final swallow around Shane's tip, he found himself pushed over the edge. He moaned Ilya's name as he came into his mouth, feeling Ilya swallow around him as he did. Ilya slid up his body easily after, lying on the bed next to him as Shane caught his breath.
"Stay here," Ilya instructed, standing up and walking out of the room. He returned a minute later with two glasses. He handed Shane a glass and took a sip of his own. "Stay in here tonight," Ilya asked.
Shane hesitated, torn between maintaining some semblance of distance between them and the knowledge that he'd just obliterated any hope of that. "Okay," he decided without much argument, and Ilya smiled like he'd won the lottery.
That night, he fell asleep tucked into Ilya's arms, sated and exhausted for the first time in, well, years. He tried his hardest, but even in the comfort of Ilya's arms, he couldn't help feeling like he'd just crossed a line he couldn't uncross. He wasn't sure he'd regret it tomorrow, but tonight it felt pretty damn good.
Shane had woken in Ilya's arms multiple times now; you'd think he would be used to it by now. He was not. When he stirred to Ilya's arms banded around him the morning after their dinner party, he let himself luxuriate in the feeling for more than a moment. A quiet truce as they both lay there, awake but unwilling to break the bubble of bliss they lay in.
Shane's mind had a tendency to run amok with panic in these situations. It seemed that every line he drew with Ilya ended up swept away almost immediately, and perhaps he was getting a little tired of drawing them.
"I've never met someone who thinks so physically," Ilya said quietly, his lips brushing against the shell of Shane's ear in a slow touch.
"What do you mean?"
"It's like the moment you start overthinking something, your entire body tenses up." Ilya ran a light touch over Shane's bicep. "Tension in every muscle just from thinking," Ilya's hands continued exploring, running all the way to brush a finger over his jaw and then sliding back down at his side until Ilya's hand was gripped around his hip. "Relax, Shane."
Shane let out an exhale, but there was no way he could relax like this. Ilya's hand pressed against his hip, and his breath brushed over the back of Shane's neck. He may not have relaxed his body, but his mind surely was no longer overthinking; it was far too busy cataloging every part of himself pressed against Ilya and the delicious friction they created.
"You're making it very difficult to relax," Shane whispered, his eyes fluttering closed on an exhale.
Ilya's fingers paused, freezing on Shane's hip and stilling for a moment. "Should I stop?" Ilya asked, his voice serious, his fingers unmoving.
Shane could draw a line there. Slide out of the bed, thank Ilya for a fun night and retreat, but he really didn't have the energy to draw new lines, especially when Ilya seemed so intent on crossing every one he set. Like they were boxes on a checklist and not careful construction meant to keep them safe.
"No, don't stop," he said, letting his lips give the answer before his brain could second-guess the thought.
He was ready for Ilya to pounce on him, eat the acceptance straight from Shane's mouth, and seize the opportunity to make a move, lines be damned. Yet, Ilya's hand stayed where it was, his breath still slow upon Shane's neck, his body still.
Ilya let out a slow sigh, as if he were carrying the weight of the world, and then pushed himself back a couple of inches. Not a lot, but enough for Shane to instantly register the lack of Ilya's heat behind him.
"What?" Shane started, the word not doing much to encapsulate all the questions he had, how he'd managed to ruin this moment simply by telling Ilya not to stop. How had those three words caused Ilya to do the exact opposite?
Shane turned over, now facing Ilya, to see the tempest of emotions mixed over Ilya's face, and suddenly Shane understood what Ilya had meant when he called Shane's overthinking "physical". Ilya's face was etched in something too complex to name, his shoulders tight and forehead creased.
"What happened?" Shane tried again, his confusion palpable in the room.
"Shane, I-" Ilya started, then paused, worrying his lip between his teeth for a moment. Whatever he was going to say was stuck in his mouth, trapped there. "I'm a little lost on where the lines are anymore," Ilya said this time, his voice low and pleading.
"What?" Shane said, feeling like a broken record as he repeated the same word over and over, trying to make sense of where he had been scratched.
"I need to know what you want, because I'm not really sure when to stop and when to push."
"Not sure what I want?" Shane clarified, his tongue heavy and brain struggling to catch up. He wished Ilya would tell him first, then he'd know how to respond.
What did he want?- Well, right now, he wanted Ilya to kiss him; he was sure of that. In fact, he wanted Ilya to kiss him pretty much all the time, but he didn't think that was the answer Ilya was looking for.
Ilya's voice edged on frustration as it came out this time, "Shane, it's a bit of a head-fuck, what we've been doing. We kiss and then pretend it never happened. You tell me not to stop, and then by the next day, I'm not even supposed to start. Last night you wanted me, and this morning I think you want me too, but I'm not sure when you're going to change your mind."
"What do you want?" Shane asked, his eyes searching for Ilya's reaction, his own mind struggling to decipher all of Ilya's words and dig into them the way he wanted.
Ilya gave a half-smile; Shane's turning of the question was neither subtle nor crafty. "I think you need to be the one to answer first, Shane."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to agree with whatever you say."
Shane's mind raced. What was that supposed to mean?
"I want-" he stopped, unsure of what he'd say. His mind was too clouded with lust to think properly. He felt like he was drunk on the sight of Ilya all tousled and flushed in his bed. "I-"
Ilya gave a knowing smile, like he'd expected this. "Think about it. I need a new map for whatever this is. I love breaking the rules, but I can't keep guessing which ones you want me to break." Ilya said and then easily slid off the bed, standing with a stretch that showed off all the smooth lines of his body.
Shane allowed himself to ogle for a moment, taking in Ilya's form in only his briefs, before Ilya threw a wink over his shoulder and disappeared through the door. Shane flopped onto his back, wondering what the hell he wanted from Ilya and how to ask for it.
Shane had been grateful in the past few months when Ilya would pretend their "transgressions" hadn't occurred the next day. Today, he was cursing himself for giving Ilya so much practice at it. As they went about their morning routine-light breakfast, walk to the gym, showers- Ilya showed no cracks in his facade. He wasn't evasive by any means; he talked with Shane as he normally did, remarking on the simple things around them, but nothing about their heated kitchen exchange the night before or Ilya's lecture this morning.
It was a morning like any other the past few months, and somehow that irked Shane. Here he was, trying his best to figure out how to answer Ilya, while Ilya walked around acting like he hadn't thrown Shane completely off balance.
Ilya left the apartment around noon to go to his office on campus and "catch up on grading". It wasn't an abnormal move for him, spending a piece of his Saturday on campus, but without him, the apartment felt too quiet, like it itself was waiting for Shane's response.
What did he want?
He wanted Ilya to smile at him again, and wanted him to keep calling him Shane in every tone he had. He wanted Ilya to cook for him more often because Ilya was really better at it than Shane, and he wanted him to keep touching him. He really wanted Ilya to keep touching him. He'd come to expect Ilya's casual touches, a hand on his waist in the kitchen, and an arm thrown around his shoulder in public. But now that he's felt Ilya's mouth on him, ran his hands over the planes of his chest, now he craved so much more from him.
That still wasn't a conclusion or an answer; his mind was too jumbled, and his wants too widespread to explain to Ilya. So Shane set about cleaning the apartment, trying to encapsulate everything he wanted into easily digestible words.
It worked for about half an hour, but somewhere between starting his second load of laundry and dusting the fan in the living room, Shane realized that ruminating on it any further was only making him more confused. So he pulled on his coat and headed out the door, hoping to sit down with Professor Rozanov and make some new rules.
Shane hadn't visited Ilya's office before, but he knew it was in the same building as Rose's office, just down the hall. He'd admittedly walked past it a few times before his "engagement," trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive Russian professor. He climbed the stairs to the second floor with confidence, but began to lose his steam with every step.
Ilya's door at the end of the hall was closed, and Shane could picture him inside, red pen in hand, reviewing essays and marking them carefully. He wasn't above admitting that the idea of it turned him on a little. He breathed a small bolstering breath and pulled the door open.
"I wanted you to kiss me this morning," he said as the room opened to him and he took in the two people inside. The two people inside. Not Ilya alone with a stack of papers for company, but Ilya sitting at his desk and Dr. Brandon Wiebe in a chair across from him, eyebrows shooting up as he looked over his shoulder at a now mortified Shane.
Ilya, to his credit, looked unsurprised at Shane's interruption. Like, Shane would often barge into his office and demand that Ilya kiss him.
"Hi, Shane," Ilya said, a slight quirk of amusement on his lips the only indication of Shane's unexpected arrival, "That does sound like a fascinating discussion, but I am meeting with Dr. Wiebe right now. Perhaps we could discuss it at home." Ilya said so formally that Shane almost believed Ilya was ready to start a philosophical debate rather than talk about Shane's request for a kiss.
"Dr. Wiebe, I am so sorry -" Shane began, his face heated and he was positive it was the color of a pomegranate.
Dr. Wiebe waved him off, "Not a problem, Dr.Hollander, I was just chatting with your fiancée about some great feedback we had from his classes last semester. I'm all finished now," he said, standing up and smiling at Ilya.
"Keep it up, Dr.Rozanov. I like what I'm hearing," he said with a reassuring smile, and then, passing by Shane, he gave a simple, "Good to see you, Dr.Hollander," before he was on his way out the door, and Shane was left there to soak in his mortification.
"Shane, why don't you come in and close the door? I'd love to discuss your request," Ilya said with a taunting smile.
Shane stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him, facing it for a moment as he begged the flush to retreat from his cheeks.
"Perhaps the lock would be a good idea as well. There are people out there who have quite a history of not knowing how to knock. Might be a good precaution." Ilya taunted.
Shane flipped the lock before turning back to Ilya and sitting mutely in the chair facing his desk, which Dr. Wiebe had just abandoned.
"Dr.Wiebe was here," Shane said, his mind still reeling with embarrassment
"Yes"
"Why didn't you tell me you were meeting with him?" Shane stuttered out.
Ilya quirked a single brow at him. "Well, I don't usually detail my meetings for you, Shane, but this one I didn't know about. I ran into Brandon on campus on my way in, and he mentioned receiving the student feedback from last semester."
"And" Shane prompted.
"And it appears I've improved. Students felt I was more approachable, and one even noted that my relationship with you was "very cute". Brandon seemed very pleased
Shane felt the smile cross his face. "That's great, Ilya," he said happily
"Yes, he seemed to think so. I'll need the same feedback this semester, so no breaking up with me just yet, but it's a great start. Thank you for that."
Shane lowered his eyes, compliments never easy for him to accept, "I didn't really do anything," he said shyly.
"No, you did. This engagement has helped immensely, and I have you to thank for that. It wouldn't be possible if not for you."
Shane felt the feeling sink in, "It hasn't been such a hardship."
"That's good to hear," Ilya said, his eyes darkening slightly, his gaze sliding down Shane's face to his lips, then darting back up. "Now I'm very eager to hear what you came here to tell me, Shane. You should know I don't usually hold office hours on the weekend."
"Right, um -" Shane stopped for a moment, trying to rebuild the confidence he'd felt when he'd first burst in here. "I haven't figured it all out yet, but I guess I wanted you to kiss me again. That's what I was thinking about this morning, and it hasn't really changed."
Ilya leaned back in his chair, completely at ease even as the uncomfortable conversation made Shane's skin crawl.
"You want me to kiss you. Is that it?" he mused.
"No," Shane said.
"Elaborate then, Shane, I'm going to need some specifics." Ilya aid, his body relaxed, and his face intrigued, the picture of calm.
Shane let out a long breath, begging his heart to stop racing and his mouth to behave. "I like what we're doing, and it's obviously working if Dr.Wiebe says your feedback was positive."
"Yes."
"And I know we said no sex when we started this, but I may have changed my mind, and I guess I'm wondering if you also changed yours…" Shane trailed off, afraid to meet Ilya's gaze.
Ilya gave a feline grin, "I haven't changed my mind."
Shane's breath deflated, and for the second time today, he felt mortified, "Oh,"
"Let me finish," Ilya instructed, his finger casually in the air, as he asked for a moment.
Shane felt himself lean forward slightly in his chair, his body reacting as he waited for Ilya's next words.
"I was never against sex to begin with; you were the one who made that rule, Shane." Ilya began, and before Shane could interrupt him again, he continued, "But Shane, if you want to change that rule, you need to stop regretting it in the morning."
"I know," Shane said quietly. "I don't regret it, I just don't want to mess it all up. It's working, and sex makes everything complicated."
"It doesn't have to."
Shane raised an eyebrow at him in question, "How so?"
"Well, for starters, we don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks. They already assume we're sleeping together, being engaged, so no issue there. Second, we've proven we're horrendous at following that rule in the first place. What's more complicated? Sex, or saying no sex and having it anyway?"
"I…I guess I hadn't thought of it that way."
"Exactly. Obviously, I'm incredibly handsome, and you can't keep your hands off me, it's completely understandable, Shane."
"I can't keep my hands off you," he said back, exasperated.
"Yes, I've just said that."
"You're the one who is always pressing me against doors, walls, and cabinets. I think you seem to be the one who can't keep their hands to themselves."
"I think you like my hands where they end up, and can admit I like kissing you. I like touching you. I like waking up next to you. And yes, I'd like to stop pretending the physical part isn't happening too."
Yes. No. Shane couldn't even keep track anymore. What had he walked in here expecting? To tell Ilya he wanted a kiss and then everything would be solved? How foolish of him.
Shane swallowed, "Okay, then we're agreed. We cross out the 'no sex' rule, and we try not to complicate things."
Ilya seemed to mull it over for a moment, and Shane's heart pounded as he considered Ilya going through all this only to reject him, but that wasn't what came out of his mouth. "When does this start?"
"What"
"This new agreement, when does it go into effect?" Ilya said, leaning forward slightly.
"I guess immediately, I don't think it really needs a start date."
Ilya smiled, and Shane felt like he'd fallen right into a trap he hadn't seen Ilya setting up. "Great, come here and get on your knees," Ilya instructed, turning his chair to the side so he sat parallel to his desk.
Shane could have scoffed and walked out; he had the option to. But who was he to deny himself any longer now that the rules had been altered? Hadn't he held himself back enough these past few months? So he stood, walked around Ilya's desk, and knelt in front of Ilya's legs, settling back onto his heels as he looked up at Ilya, lounging in his chair like a king upon a throne.
Ilya let out a small hum of approval, bringing a hand to stroke lightly along Shane's jaw, "You're so pretty when you're not fighting this, Shane," he said, his voice low and hungry.
Shane leaned into the touch, sick of fighting his need for this for so long. It felt so good to give in, to be here with Ilya, telling him it was okay to want this. That he was wanted back. "Tell me what to do," he pleaded, almost too quiet, almost to himself, but from the twitch in Ilya's hand, he knew he'd heard.
"In a second," Ilya said quietly, leaning down, his elbows resting on his knees and his face inches from Shane's. "First, I'm going to do what you asked," he said, and Shane didn't have a moment to remember what he'd asked before Ilya's lips were on his.
Ilya's kiss was deep and claiming, his mouth hot against Shane's, and his hand still holding against his jaw with an iron grip. For the first time since he's posed this plan to Ilya under the magnolia tree, he let himself really kiss Ilya. Not as a farce for Roger, not in a lust-fueled haze of beer or jealousy, but just as Shane and Ilya. It was addictive, and Shane silently wished he'd asked for this from day one.
Ilya pulled away from his lips for a second, his breath still close enough to feel the heat, "Fuck, this is not the right location for all the things I want to do to you," Ilya said, his words laced with frustration and desire.
"I guess that's my fault for showing up at your office, Dr.Rozanov," Shane said, his knees digging into the office carpet through his pants, and Ilya's gaze slipping into something darker than it had been a moment before.
"Don't start with that, Shane," he said curtly, but there was no force behind it. Like it was advice he didn't really want Shane to follow. What was it Ilya had said earlier today? He didn't know when to push. Perhaps Shane didn't suffer from the same affliction, or perhaps he was calling the shots more than he'd realized, because right now, he knew it was okay to push.
"Start with what?" Shane said, bringing his lips up to Ilya's again, craning his neck up until he could feel their breaths mingle, "showing up at your office begging you to kiss me, or calling you Dr.Rozanov."
"I think you're well aware of which one," Ilya said, his breath restrained, and at this position Shane could see the clear result of his words on Ilya's cock. With his legs spread and Shane between them, he could see Ilya's pants straining at his crotch. Shane longed to bring his head over the fabric and use his mouth through the denim. But he was busy playing a different game right now.
"I'm sorry, Dr.Rozanov, I thought you'd like me using your title," Shane said, peering up at Ilya through his eyelashes. "My mistake." He made his way to stand, but did it ever so slowly, giving Ilya the chance to -
"Wait," Ilya said, his hand sliding over Shane's shoulder and holding him in place on his knees.
Checkmate.
There was an expression, "don't poke the bear," that Shane figured worked well here, but somehow all his caution had walked out the door alongside Dr.Wiebe, and he was feeling rather dangerous. Perhaps poking the bear was alright here and there, behind a locked office door, for example.
Shane moved his hands to Ilya's thighs, running them slowly over his parted legs, his eyes holding Ilya's sapphire gaze. Ilya's mouth shifted, tilting up at the corners, as if he'd made a discovery he was pleased with.
"Mr. Hollander. This is highly inappropriate," Ilya said, his discouraging words not matching the way his eyes blazed and the way his legs parted further as Shane's hands neared his belt.
"You're right, Dr. Rozanov, it is. Perhaps I should go," Shane retorted, but made no move to leave.
"That won't be necessary, you're already here, you should finish what you started. Unless you're unable to complete your assignments. That would be a real disappointment; you're such a bright student. "
It wasn't a true compliment, just words that Ilya was using to spur on whatever game they were playing, but the praise still sank directly into Shane's bones, and he was helpless to resist the way Ilya's approval made him feel. If Ilya noticed the way his words affected Shane, he didn't let it show. His eyes instead fixed on Shane's hands as they deftly undid Ilya's belt and dragged his zipper down in a slow, excruciating pace.
Shane could have taken his time to unwind Ilya further; he could have called him by his title and watched the wheels spin in his head. He could have done everything slowly and steadily, but he didn't because, although he had had his mouth on Ilya less than a day ago, he was already desperate for more. So he pulled Ilya's cock free of his jeans and brought his lips to it, licking a drop of precome from the tip before wrapping his lips around Ilya and taking him deeply into his mouth.
Ilya made no effort to be nonchalant at the motion, his hands immediately tangling into Shane's hair, his mouth parting on a moan, and his hips pushing forward. Shane took all of this as signs of a job well done and doubled his efforts, keen to drive Ilya as insane as this morning had made him. He let his hand wrap around the base of Ilya's cock, stroking up to meet what his mouth couldn't cover, Ilya's fingers in his hair dictating the pace.
"Fuck Shane, it's like this mouth was made for me," Ilay stuttered out, his voice deep and raspy as his hips chased Shane's tongue and throat.
Shane could only respond with a hum around Ilya's cock that made Ilya's hands in his hair tug a little harder. The position wasn't kind on his knees, and he could feel spit leaking down his chin as Ilya moved Shane's mouth the way he wanted, obscenities slipping freely from his mouth in a mix of English and Russian. Shane didn't need to know Russian to understand that Ilya was telling him how well he was doing. And he liked that. A lot.
Ilya has to be close, his rhythm faltering and his grip bordering on pain. Shane glanced up to see Ilya's eyes closed, head tilted back in his office chair, and the column of his throat exposed as he let out small stuttered breaths that spelled out a loss of control. Then, with absolutely no warning, Ilya's eyes snapped open, his hand wrenching Shane's head back from his dick, trails of spit leaking between it and Shane's confused mouth. "Wait," he gasped.
Shane glanced up at Ilya's face for any sign of what had happened, why he had been pulled off him while Ilya was riding so close to the edge. His eyes watered from the abuse on his throat, and he panted as he attempted to regain his breath enough to ask why.
As it turned out, he had no need to question anything; Ilya was far too attuned to Shane's questioning nature.
Ilya gripped a fist in Shane's shirt and pulled him to his feet in an impressive show of strength, pulling their mouths together before Shane had a chance to right himself. Ilya pulled back a whisper, "I want to come with you today," he groaned into Shane's mouth, maneuvering him to turn until the backs of his thighs met the edge of Ilya's desk. "Sit," he commanded.
Shane did as he was asked, propping himself upon the ledge of the desk, his mouth still pressed against Ilya's, his hands taking liberties to touch Ilya however he wished.
Shane may have been quick to undo Ilya's pants and put his mouth on him, but Ilya was not quick. Ilya was rough. He unbuttoned Shane's pants and pushed down his briefs with a fevered intensity that Shane hadn't seen before, his fingers merciless and his mouth almost angry as he writhed against Shane. "You drive me fucking insane, Hollander."
It was all too much to process: Ilya's dirty words, his bruising grip, and then his spit-slicked hand wrapping around both of their dicks.
"Fuck" Shane grunted out, the pleasure of Ilya's touch overwhelming, and he moved his hand up and down their cocks, leaning against Shane's body.
"See Hollander," Ilya said, his voice low and his hand working quickly, "this is how you made me feel all the time. So goddamn out of control."
Shane didn't trust his own words; sure, they'd come out in a heap of begging or unintelligible nonsense, so he let the pleasure speak for itself, doing nothing to hide his whimpers and moans that Ilya coaxed out of him with only a hand on his cock and his mouth against his.
It didn't take long for Ilya to bring them both to orgasm, Shane shaking against him as he came over Ilya's fist working them over, before Ilya joined him, their come mixing even as Ilya's hand slowed to a crawl. Ilya's left hand was braced on the desk next to Shane's spread thighs, his breath apnting as he leaned into Shane afterward, the office silent except for their breaths.
After a moment, Ilya placed a gentle kiss against Shane's lips and then leaned back, his sapphire eyes meeting Shane's before the ghost of a smile crossed his face.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Okay," Shane said, not bothering to hide his smile.
Ilya cleaned them up to the best of his ability with a box of tissues from his desk (apparently, it wasn't uncommon for students to dry in his office hours, so he kept a large supply of tissues on hand). Then he packed his laptop away, unlocked the door, and they walked back home together, lines in their pretend relationship obliterated.
Shane wasn't necessarily sure what he'd been expecting when they'd thrown the "no sex" rule out the window. For more instances of office sex? To be ravished on every surface of the apartment? To wake up tangled up in Ilya's sheets every day? Possibly. But what he hadn't expected was how little would change. For the most part of the next few weeks, things were almost the same. There was sex, yes, but never the fevered, overwhelming lust that Shane had been expecting.
The change in the apartment came across more subtly than Shane had expected. Ilya was normally a rather physical person, but his touches now lingered longer, his hands on Shane even when he had no reason for them to be. They still watched movies on the couch together, but now, more often than not, they'd sit hip to hip, and Ilya would eventually pull Shane's head down to rest on his shoulder a few minutes in. There was no longer any discussion about who cooked and cleaned; they just fell into an easy rhythm. Shane would grade his papers at their dining table, and Ilya would bring him a steaming cup of coffee in the morning or a warm cup of tea in the evening. Nights when they went out to eat in a restaurant, and Ilya would hold his hand over the table, no hesitation from either of them. Sundays afternoons where Shane would drag Ilya to Rose's favorite yoga class and try not to marvel at how flexible Ilya was without even trying.
Shane started expecting Ilya after his Tuesday afternoon class, where he'd pick him up at his classroom door, give him a sweet kiss, and walk with him to lunch on campus, like clockwork. He found himself bringing an extra water bottle to the gym in the morning just in case Ilya forgot his. Shane would even add a new type of sweet to the cart every time the grocery shopped just to placate Ilya's insatiable sweet tooth. He forced himself not to overanalyze these changes, focusing only on the physical changes in their relationship. That was easy, that was safe. Sex hadn't ruined everything after all, but even in his mind, he couldn't deny that it had changed things.
With these changes came others, even more minute, so small that they were unnoticeable unless compounded together, like a collage that didn't make sense until all the parts were in place. Not physical moments, dictated by hands and lips and bodies, but quiet moments where their lives fit together so easily that Shane forgot what was real and what wasn't.
Shane had expected kissing, of course, he had, but not in the way that it actually occurred. He expected kissing to become a prerequisite to sex. Kissing only with the objective of ending up tangled up in the sheets together, and yes, it did happen, but most of the time it wasn't like that. Ilya would dole out sweet kisses with no expectation of anything else. He'd pull Shane back to him on his way out the door to class, letting their lips brush in a soft kiss before bidding him a good day and ushering him out. Ilya would pull Shane into his arms in the kitchen before dinner, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before they plated their food. He'd even taken to giving Shane these soft, easy kisses on campus, as they parted ways at the gym or met for lunch.
Ilya stopped shoving Shane against objects and kissing him ruthlessly; instead, he opted for gentle kisses and lingering touches. Sex fell completely on Shane's shoulders to initiate, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He knew in the back of his mind that Ilya was doing it on his behalf. Trying to put the ball in Shane's court - so to speak- to make sure he didn't overstep their new situation. It was polite but somehow unnerving, as if he were missing a piece of Ilya he really wanted. The domineering asshole that he had come to…expect.
It made Shane cautious, but not cautious enough to ignore sex completely. After all, he's spent years of unintended abstinence and months cooped up with his Adonis-like fake fiancée, to turn down his opportunity for sex now would be foolish. So he let the power change, and there were moments when Ilya gave him a peck in the kitchen, and Shane ended up shoving Ilya against the cabinets, pressing their bodies together in a clear request for more. There were days when Ilya would shower, leaving the door slightly ajar, and when Shane would join him, he'd simply hum "finally" against Shane's lips before they lost themselves in each other. Most of all, there were nights when Ilya would bring Shane to his room and tuck him against his body innocently, and Shane would writhe against him until they were both panting and hard, and Ilya would give him what he craved. When he'd awake the next morning, held tight against Ilya's chest, he'd let himself blame it on the sex the night before as a reason why it felt so right to wake in his arms.